


no other version of me

by vaudelin



Series: Tumblr fic [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Human, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexual Dean Winchester, Frottage, Gen, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dean Winchester, Porn with Feelings, Self-Esteem Issues, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudelin/pseuds/vaudelin
Summary: He tried forcing shut the door, but the alpha—Castiel—had jimmied his foot in the way, giving him further opportunity to talk. “A moment, please. I understand this is a difficult time for you, but—”“I only made the stupid account yesterday, and I already cancelled—”“I saw,” Castiel said, “and I’m still here. Can you spare a moment to discuss it? Please.”Dean closed his eyes and took in a calming breath. A mistake, as it turned out; the scent of summer rain only further weakened his resolve. “Five minutes, then you’re gone,” Dean said lowly, and with it sharply retreated for the kitchen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have one further idea/concept involving these two, but since that doc isn't done yet, this piece is being marked as complete/standalone for now.

That the doorbell was ringing a day into Dean’s heat was not entirely unprecedented, but the person standing on the other side of the door was no one Dean could have predicted.

“Hello, my name is Castiel,” the man said quickly, leaning into the gap formed when Dean opened the door. “I’m from Alpha Services. I’m here about your—”

“Not interested,” Dean growled, annoyed that he had hobbled away from his heat bed for this. Especially since the instant of catching the man’s scent was only worsening his symptoms. Dean tightened his bathrobe over his chest, as if that would mask his current situation, hiding the overwarm skin Dean already had exposed and keeping his impromptu desire at bay.

He tried forcing shut the door, but the alpha—Castiel—had jimmied his foot in the way, giving him further opportunity to talk. “A moment, please. I understand this is a difficult time for you, but—”

“I only made the stupid account yesterday, and I already cancelled—”

“I saw,” Castiel said, “and I’m still here. Can you spare a moment to discuss it? Please.”

Dean closed his eyes and took in a calming breath. A mistake, as it turned out; the scent of summer rain only further weakened his resolve. “Five minutes, then you’re gone,” Dean said lowly, and with it sharply retreated for the kitchen.

Castiel stepped inside and closed the door behind him, unzipping his messenger bag as he followed Dean through the foyer. He took a seat at the uncluttered half of the fold-out dining table while Dean withdrew to its opposing side, keeping distance in case Dean’s heat made him stupid enough to actually touch the alpha, the way he suddenly wanted to.

Castiel was irritatingly endearing, the way he was tapping through the tablet he had retrieved from his bag. Head down and focused, tousled hair bobbing as he navigated through the device’s screens. Dean felt his already-hard cock twitch, thinking about how Castiel would look with his head bobbing between Dean’s legs.

Dean cleared his throat, glancing pointedly at the kitchen clock, which did the trick of encouraging Castiel to cut to the chase. “Your profile said you were only looking for proximity during your heat, not sexual intimacy. Have you reached out to other service providers before with similar requests?”

Dean flushed at the memory of filling out the web form last night, experiencing anew the depths of his humiliation as he suffered through each and every prying question AS asked about his heat. He’d never had a cycle so bad before that he had to contemplate hiring a service to handle it, but the throes he’d gone through yesterday had made him abruptly reconsider.

“First time,” Dean reluctantly answered, looking away. “A moment of weakness.” He’d been pitiful since his heat started, hands locked into his sheets, hips digging his cock fruitlessly into the mattress. Willing to seek out any sort of reprieve, including professionals that offered too much intimacy for Dean to ever accept.

“You signed up knowing our reputation and our typical service tiers?”

“Kinda had to fill out the whole profile to even find your prices.” Dean snorted. “Too rich for my blood, especially if I’m not asking for the fucking part of it.”

“The full-service tiers are regrettably expensive,” Castiel agreed. “But as AS is a registered medical service, we do pursue the occasional pro bono work. You could elect for us to handle your needs during this heat, if you agree to sign the necessary consent forms.”

At that, Castiel slid the tablet across the table, the screen opened to a white page. Dean turned the tablet around, found his profile’s wants and rules neatly typed into a legal document, the bottom of which already held a digital signature on the alpha’s line of the consent.

“So I’m a charity case,” Dean said dully.

“A unique case,” Castiel amended. “Your profile was very intriguing.”

Dean snorted again. He rapped his knuckles against the table, the rhythm shuddering as a wave of heat struck him again. Dean closed his eyes, squeezed his legs against the sudden rush of slick flooding his heatbriefs. He bit his lip against the moan already forming, stifling half of it from reaching the open air.

When Dean reopened his eyes, he found Castiel watching him carefully, his hands placed firmly atop the table. Long fingers. Wide palms. Strong jaw and sharp blue eyes.

Dean sighed and read through the document, found the situation Castiel had put his signature to was tailored entirely to Dean’s specifications. There was a clause indicating that the omega’s signature was given while their heat was already in progress, and a motley collection of subclauses explaining in detail how the circumstances affected the liability to which the alpha exposed the company, and how Dean could rescind the trial at any time.The service fee of $0.00 was typed into the document, not even a field that needed filling out.

It was exactly what Dean needed, and unfortunately it came exactly when he needed it, too.

Dean scribbled his signature onto the tablet, then pushed it roughly back to Castiel without looking. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his knees wobbling as he rose to his feet. “I need a shower.”

“I’ll prepare lunch,” Castiel said, tucking the tablet away. 

* * *

Dean took his time scrubbing himself clean within the shower, riding the rising crest of his heat until it brought him to reluctant climax. He exited the bathroom wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants over a fresh pair of heatbriefs, a towel yet draped over his shoulders to catch the moisture dripping from his hair.

He found Castiel in the kitchen, as promised, rifling through a cooler brought in from the vehicle Castiel must have driven to get here. A plate of cold cut sandwiches and chips sat beside an electrolyte drink, all neatly organized around a single place setting.

Now that his heat had died down enough for him to finally chance a look, Dean saw how bizarrely out of place Castiel seemed in Dean’s paltry kitchen, the scratched formica and 80s-style honeyoak cabinets clashing sorely with Castiel’s formal business attire. Dean would be embarrassed, except his stomach growled at the first sighting of pastries Castiel was pulling out from the cooler, a plate of fruit tarts he set down in addition to the meal he had prepared for Dean.

“I didn’t have the chance to grab your preferred burgers and pie,” Castiel said, seemingly apologetic as he stepped away from the meal. “I’ll bring them for supper, if the afternoon goes well enough that you’ll grant me to stay.”

Dean hummed noncommittally, skipping the sandwich and heading straight for the pastries. Two bites in and the strawberry tart was singing on his heightened tastebuds.

“Do you mind if I undress?” Castiel asked.

Dean nearly choked on the thought, until Castiel motioned to solely his jacket and tie. Nodding, Dean extended his pensive silence by biting into one diagonal half of the beef sandwich. Castiel set his suit jacket onto the back of a chair, folded up his tie, and reached again for his trusty tablet.

Skimming the consent document, Castiel asked, “May I ask for further detail about how you see our arrangement unfolding?”

Warmth struck Dean’s face again, the instinctive rise of humiliation clamping his mouth shut. Castiel waited patiently for Dean to process his thoughts, his gaze artfully trained on the tablet.

“Just need someone here,” Dean mumbled through a mouthful, unwilling to offer more.

“It’s rare that a client removes all sexual scenarios from their heat needs,” Castiel continued, undeterred. “Not to be crass, but the common preconception for our services amounts to little more than highly-specified sex work.”

Dean cracked a smile at that. “Take it you’re not a fan of that opinion?”

Castiel’s mouth rumpled. “We’re more than that, clearly. I’m hoping…” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. Dean stared harder, prompting him to continue. “I’m hoping your cycle might help change that opinion, within the office.”

Dean laughed in spite of himself. “You wanna add some non-sexy tiers to the AS service line?”

“If it were up to me, we would,” Castiel said, sincerely.

Dean bit into his sandwich, uncertain what further he should say.

Castiel cleared his throat. “Where is your linen closet? I’ll change your bedding, ready your nest again.”

Dean felt his blush build again at the mention of his ‘nest’—the sorry excuse of pillows and blankets he’d thrown together into a lump on his bed. Dean preferred that he cleaned his own filthy bed, but Castiel had likely seen worse if he’d been with AS for any length of time.

Dean’s throat was dry, voice hoarse as he answered, “Closet’s in the hall. Bedroom’s at the end.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, a low rumble that ricocheted its way down Dean’s spine.

Dean’s legs twitched shut, too late to stop the trickle of slick now leaking from his body.

* * *

By the time Dean finished eating and had tossed away the paper plates, Castiel had swapped the soiled bedding out for crisp sheets, and had gathered Dean’s laundry into a couple neat piles at the foot of his bed. He had even found additional pillows and comforters Dean hadn’t been using, and had arranged the collective into a soft bow that Dean felt an instinctive urge to tuck himself inside of.

Castiel stood offside the bed, hands tucked into his trouser pockets, white button-down sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Will this suffice?”

Even if Dean’s heat weren’t begging him to tuck into the pillows, the smell of Castiel upon Dean’s possessions made him want to roll around until those summer rains were embedded inside Dean’s skin. The scent surrounded Dean like a sweet glaze, offering comfort and the promise of uninterrupted rest.

Dean nodded numbly, sliding forward along the comforter on his belly. His gut contracted as his face hit the pillow, Castiel’s scent strongest and most soothing, there.

Castiel draped a light blanket over Dean and the pillow mounds, tucking him into the shallow pillow fort. Dean was surrounded by the caring, gentle scent of alpha in here, enough that his eyes shut and he openly moaned, burying his nose into the sheets. “You smell good.”

Castiel hummed in lieu of a laugh. “Do you want me to leave while you rest?”

Dean shook his head, the crown of his hair barely peeking out from beneath the blanket. “Want you in here.”

“Alright.” Castiel said. “Just let me start a load of laundry. I’ll be with you in less than a minute.”

Somehow, while he waited, Dean’s heat wasn’t cresting in an overbearing wave, at least not in the way that had left him so broken the night before. Instead, he felt his heat building, slow and steady, into something that felt more akin to pleasure than distress. It still felt stupid, that Dean had frayed far enough to dare reach out to AS, but it no longer felt like a mistake.

A knee pressed down the mattress beside Dean, followed by the blanket lifting and Castiel tucking himself inside. He laid down on his side facing Dean, space so scarce his nose was mere inches from Dean’s.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Castiel asked softly.

Dean nodded, eyes closing. Castiel laid a gentle hand atop Dean’s hip, his thumb rubbing small circles. Dean relaxed into the touch, his muscles unwinding, his breaths slowing into something deep and steady.

“What did you do before? For your heats.”

Dean sighed heavily through his nose. He didn’t want to think about it, but there was no point in sugarcoating it. Castiel was a professional; Dean felt he should know what it’s like for the majority of them that can’t afford Alpha Services’ specialties.

In a creaky voice, Dean said, “First, I hope to God it happens on a weekend, so I miss at most a Friday or Monday. Call in sick only if I gotta, because I tend to lose my hourly job whenever they find out I’m not an alpha, and the company doesn’t want to start shelling out for heat days.”

Castiel’s mouth thinned, but he blessedly offered no further comment. “What about suppressants?”

Dean snorted a soft laugh. “Bad reaction to the name brand, and I don’t have insurance that covers the more costly versions. Just gotta pray the next heat doesn’t suck or hit early.” His laugh turned brittle. “This one did both.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, quiet.

Dean shrugged. “Been happening so long, I don’t know any different. Just learned how to get by.”

“Still. A heat shouldn’t be about suffering.”

Dean lifted a shoulder, feeling suddenly defensive. He didn’t like the feeling, not when everything surrounding him told him he was cared for and safe. “This one’s going better, now you’re here,” Dean conceded, hoping it was enough to change the subject.

Castiel dragged his hand up from Dean’s hip to his shoulder, his palm coming up to cup Dean’s neck. His thumb soothed those same soft circles into Dean’s cheek. “I’m glad you reached out for help. You smelled like you needed it, when I arrived.”

Dean blushed, hating the reminder that his body frequently made his needs so wholly transparent. His heat rose on a sudden wave of self-hatred.

“It’s okay,” Castiel murmured, crowding closer. “You’re not alone.”

“Don’t,” Dean mumbled. “Don’t make me forget you’re paid to be here.”

“I’m happy to be here,” Castiel said, again in that sincere tone. “You’re lovely. And I don’t want you to suffer.”

Without thinking too deeply about it, Dean tucked his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck, scenting the rainstorm where it was strongest. He unfolded his arms and brought them around Castiel, tugging him closer until their chests were touching.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Dean murmured, directly against Castiel’s throat.

Castiel hummed, and the reverberation sent a spike of unwanted lust directly to Dean’s groin. “You said ‘no kissing’ on your profile,” Castiel replied, touching Dean’s hair.

“I know.” Dean might be heat-drunk, but he remembered the reasons why he added that rule in the first place. “I just wanna know. Bet you taste like fucking candy.”

Castiel’s laugh rumbled through him, and Dean’s dick surged with need. He hooked a leg over Castiel’s thigh, drew him in until Dean felt Castiel’s erection grind against his.

Castiel planted his hands upon Dean’s waist, holding him so firmly Dean could find no purchase to frot against him. “You don’t want this, Dean,” Castiel reminded. “This wave of your heat is merely cresting. I can smell it on you.”

“Let me,” Dean panted. His body was a confusing blend of exhausted and electrified. All he wanted was to feel Castiel’s dick twitch against him, inside of him. He mouthed along Castiel’s neck, sticking his tongue onto the scent gland tucked behind Castiel’s ear.

Castiel groaned, his grip faltering. Dean used the failure to push Castiel onto his back, hands planted atop Castiel’s shoulders. The blanket bowed upwards as Dean fitted his hips atop Castiel’s, his heat soaking through his briefs and sopping onto Castiel’s trousers.

“I won’t fuck you,” Castiel said, though his eyes were darkening, and his voice was clearly strained.

“Then let me do this,” Dean groaned, hips circling. “Let me have this.”

Castiel grappled for Dean’s thighs, forcing Dean down until he was unable to rise from his sitting position. It wasn’t enough to stop him from frotting in small thrusts, but Dean didn’t need much friction to get off at this point. A few minutes of Castiel’s dick rigid beneath him, so tantalizingly close and yet so aching far, and Dean was coming in his briefs, a thick rush of slick hitting just as his orgasm erupted from his dick.

Dean’s arms gave out, and he collapsed forward, landing heavily atop Castiel. Castiel, who ran his hands soothingly over Dean’s back and sides, and whose thick alpha cock was currently pressed firmly against Dean’s stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Dean blurted, ashamed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel said, his mouth pressed into Dean’s hair. “Let me get you a change of clothes. I’ll bring them back, and then I’ll go handle my own situation.”

Dean reluctantly let Castiel go, shucking off his underwear when Castiel brought him a fresh pair. He heard the old washing machine switch over, the dryer kicking up as Castiel exchanged the loads of laundry. The thought of Castiel gripping his dick in Dean’s washroom had Dean’s own prick perking up again. He willed the image away, reminding himself that he wasn’t like this. Dean wasn’t normally so wanton, someone who’d let an alpha’s cock inside of him.

Outside the nest, the bedroom door shut quietly as Castiel returned. Dean felt the cold bottled beverage appear before Castiel himself arrived beneath the blanket. “Drink this, please,” Castiel said, so Dean dutifully drank down half the sports drink before Castiel allowed it to be set aside. The blanket lifted as Castiel reemerged inside, the scent of sex escaping with the gesture. Again, Dean felt horrified at what his body made him do to this poor man, who was only here because Dean was a charity case.

“Dean,” Castiel said, tapping Dean’s brow. “What’s happening here?”

Dean shook his head, turning onto his side, facing away. Castiel didn’t accept the brush-off blithely; he wrapped his arms around Dean once more, one hand settling on Dean’s chest, the other on the softness of Dean’s belly.

“Is this okay?” Castiel murmured into Dean’s shoulder.

Dean breathed deeply until he had calmed himself. “Yeah. ‘S good.”

Castiel hummed. “Good. We’ll rest, and when you’ve fallen asleep I’ll bring you supper.”

Dean frowned, feeling as though he was taking even further advantage of Castiel’s good graces. “Don’t feel you gotta, Cas, not after I—”

“I’m alright.” Castiel squeezed Dean tighter, until Dean could imagine he felt Castiel’s heartbeat pounding against his back. “I understand the situation you’re in. You’ve done nothing that would upset me.” His nose touched against Dean’s neck, his breath softly snuffling.

Dean laid there, eyes closed, just experiencing the sensation of being scented. When his pulse had calmed, he asked, “What do I smell like to you?”

Castiel remained quiet, thinking. “Leather and oil, usually. But right now? Guilt and shame.” Abruptly, he kissed the back of Dean’s neck. “I wish you wouldn’t. I like that machinery smell best.”

Dean chuckled, and Castiel hummed approval. “You said burgers for supper, right?”

Castiel hugged him again, his legs crowding up close. “We can have whatever you like.”

Dean relaxed into the thought, trying it on for size. Maybe further time with Castiel could help him accept that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your profile,” Cas began, tapping at the screen, and Dean’s pulse quickened. “Can I confirm you made an update to your account’s companion preferences, time-stamped in the last month?”
> 
> “Yeah,” Dean said, his face growing warm. He had tried hard not to think too deeply about it, ever since he made the changes. He scratched at his neck, fumbling for ways he might hide his growing shame.
> 
> “You added kissing,” Cas said, looking up from the tablet. His eyes were soft, despite his formality, and he had that small, inscrutable smile settled gently on his face.
> 
> “Yeah—Yes.” The sight of that smile made Dean’s face flush even deeper, if possible. “And some other things,” he mumbled, and he was scared, so scared, that Cas would ask him _why_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Here is another part to this 'verse~

Dressed in sweats, swaddled by his bathrobe, Dean opened the door to find Cas standing there with a smile and his cooler of supplies. Dean reflexively smiled at the sight of him in his dampened trench coat, his hair faintly rumpled by the rain. “Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas glanced over him, his attention lingering on Dean’s face. “Have I come by too early?”

Dean knew what he looked like, dressed for a heat that hasn’t yet happened. But he woke in the night due to the usual telltale chills, so it was coming. He texted Cas this morning, saying about the same.

Besides, it didn’t hurt if Dean’s assumptions were off, and Cas was early by a day. It wasn’t like Dean minded his company.

“No, it’s good,” Dean said, far too quickly. “Been staving the fever off with aspirin so far. But—yeah. Soon.”

Cas made a thoughtful noise, distracted by his usual routine. He tucked his coat away on the hook Dean leaves open for him; crossed to the kitchen to unpack his cooler into the space Dean had made for him in the fridge. Dean leaned back against the countertop, watching it all with a mug of hot water in hand.

But then Cas dropped his messenger bag into what Dean had come to think of as his spot at the table, and pulled out his tablet. It was an item Dean only saw as it related to Cas’ work persona, which Cas made a pointed effort to avoid whenever he was spending time at Dean’s.

“Your profile,” Cas began, tapping at the screen, and Dean’s pulse quickened. “Can I confirm you made an update to your account’s companion preferences, time-stamped in the last month?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his face growing warm. He had tried hard not to think too deeply about it, ever since he made the changes. He scratched at his neck, fumbling for ways he might hide his growing shame.

“You added kissing,” Cas said, looking up from the tablet. His eyes were soft, despite his formality, and he had that small, inscrutable smile settled gently on his face.

“Yeah—Yes.” The sight of that smile made Dean’s face flush even deeper, if possible. “And some other things,” he mumbled, and he was scared, so scared, that Cas would ask him _why_.

“Yes, I’ve reviewed your other additions,” Cas said nonchallantly, and suddenly Dean was thinking back to the night he scrolled through the site’s companion preferences list, lonely and checking off all the sex positions he imagined maybe someday experiencing with Cas.

Turned out someday was now. Maybe. Dean’s heart lurched in his chest.

“I just need your updated signature saying the changes were made by you,” Cas said, “and that all your other account information is still accurate.”

Dean mumbled agreement, reached out to scrawl a hasty signature across the bottom of the screen. Cas then flipped shut the tablet case and returned it to the messenger bag, his body language changing with the motion, going from someone Dean considered stiff and unapproachable into somebody far more vibrant.

Just like that, Cas was himself again.

Business end of things now done, Cas abandoned his bag and came closer to Dean, leaning against the countertops the same way Dean was leaning, one hand wrapped around a mug of lukewarm water, since even green tea was too caffeinated for him to drink during his heat without getting a headache.

Cas rested his hand atop Dean’s hand on the counter. “Is there anything I can get you right now, besides a top-up?” He reached for Dean’s mug, their fingers brushing together.

“No, it’s good—I’m good.” Dean fumbled, thinking of how Cas was touching him in too many places and yet it still wasn’t enough. “Like I said, my heat hasn’t spiked just yet.”

Cas hummed, regardless retrieving the electric kettle from its corner of the counter. He refilled it and plugged it in before fetching a spoon and a small tub of honey out from one of Dean’s cabinets, followed by a bottle of lemon juice pulled out from the fridge.

Dean stepped in to stop him—he wasn’t worth the effort—but Cas held a hand out before Dean could even draw his breath. “It’s no trouble,” Cas said, attention on preparing the mug. “Besides, I know you don’t actually dislike it.”

“Well,” Dean said. But Cas was right; the lemon honey tasted a lot better than straight hot water.

“So,” Cas began, one brow raised as he grabbed a second mug. “Which movie are you forcing on me today?”

Grinning, Dean pushed himself into motion, gathering himself into his bathrobe as he crossed for the living room. “There’s a couple options,” he said, loud enough for Cas to hear, over the building boil of the kettle. “Just depends on what you’re in the mood for.”

“What are my options?”

“Harrison Ford in khaki,” Dean answered, “or Harrison Ford in space.”

Cas laughed, loud and bright, and it warmed Dean to hear it rumble through his otherwise empty apartment. “I’ll take Indiana Jones, as if you’ve really given me a choice.”

“Hey now,” Dean balked, as he loaded the player, “Star Wars is a classic.” Cas hummed, noncommittal, so Dean added, “You better watch it. I might just make you watch A New Hope if you’re not careful.”

Cas idly agreed, “Sure, sure,” and set down two steaming cups on the coffee table. He unfolded the blanket Dean left perched on the armrest and draped it across the both of them. He then settled in beside Dean, snuggling closer than just friends would allow.

Dean sobered a bit. He had to keep telling himself that Cas wasn’t his friend, not really. They only knew each other during the four or five days a season when Dean succumbed to a heat.

Still. It was hard keeping that in mind when Cas wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders, growing comfortable as the movie progressed, or when he rubbed his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean was just thankful he had seen these movies enough times that he could recite them in his sleep, and could instead spend his time savouring the feel of Cas so close to him, the warmth of Cas’ body tucked in a tight line along his own.

Dean might have been imagining it, but beneath the spring showers pouring outside, he still picked up the scent of Castiel’s summer rains.

* * *

Dean’s heat spiked sometime after Cas loaded Temple of Doom into the player. One moment Dean was admiring Indy, sprawled out and soaking wet in a yellow inflatable raft, then in the next Dean was being coaxed up off the couch by gentle hands tugging deftly on his bathrobe.

His head drooped onto Cas’ shoulder without intending to, though the arm he wrapped around Cas’ waist was entirely a choice of his own making. Cas hummed with satisfaction when he swung open the door to Dean’s bedroom, his nostrils flaring as he spied the nest Dean made for them.

His arm squeezed where it was still slung around Dean. Cas rested his cheek against Dean’s head, and murmured, “What would you like next?”

In answer, Dean folded himself around Cas’ side, gathering him up into a loose hug. He scented Cas’ throat, and with it felt a rumble building in his own chest.

“Just hold me,” Dean said, up close and quiet against Cas’ neck.

A distant part of himself hated how he sounded, cracked open and raw, his needs left bare for the pickings. But Cas had never made him feel like the gesture was a waste. This might be another time when it was okay to express his needs.

“Let’s get you comfortable first.” Gently, Cas pushed off his bathrobe, and with the two of them swaying like slow dancers, he nudged Dean deeper into the room.

As they closed in on the bed, Dean drew back far enough to rest his brow against Cas’ temple. He closed his eyes. His nose brushed Cas’ cheek. Their mouths were close enough to exchange heated breaths.

Cas brought a hand up to Dean’s face, brushing his thumb along the high bones of his cheek. “Are you still okay with me kissing you?”

Dean groaned out in a bleary answer. He then pressed bodily into Cas, his groin throbbing as he rubbed up against Cas’ thigh.

Cas laughed a bit, mumbling something about Dean being wild, before cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together.

It was nice, for their first. The kiss was dry but warm, unhurried in a way that made Dean ache. He burned up inside where Cas’ hand was still touching his face.

“C’mon,” Cas said, after another soft kiss, “let’s get you some rest,” and he led Dean over to the nest built on the bed. Dean felt the backs of his legs hit the mattress, and then Cas was pressing him down carefully into the covers, the two of them remaining in constant contact during the transition onto the bed.

Dean rubbed his hand over the sheets, briefly savouring the coolness of the fabric. Then want surged up within him, and he was then pressing himself tight against Cas, rolling the both of them onto their sides as he kissed Cas again.

Cas seemed happy, when Dean’s vision cleared enough to study him; contentment shone bright in his eyes. And he continued to indulge Dean’s need for lazy kisses, cupping his face in his hand, his lips parting with Dean brushed his tongue against them. His long fingers rubbed tight circles into the base of Dean’s neck, loosening the tight muscles there.

As much as he was enjoying laying beside Cas, Dean sighed, wanting more. He wanted Cas’ hands on much more pressing places of his body.

As if sensing this, Cas asked, “What do you want, Dean?” His mouth caught on Dean’s bottom lip as he spoke. He kissed the corner of Dean’s mouth, as he waited for Dean’s reply, which Dean gave by chasing after him, licking his lips in pursuit of a proper kiss.

Cas laughed again, between kisses, but it didn’t feel mean-spirited to him. If anything, the deeper parts of Dean delighted in eliciting such joy within him. His body thrilled at pleasing his alpha, emboldening Dean to take more.

And Cas was so pliant, so welcoming, in Dean’s arms. He rolled easily onto his back when Dean draped over him, pushing until he straddled Cas’ thighs. Dean could feel how wet he was now, sitting like this, his heat already soaking through his heatbriefs. For once, it didn’t bother him, that he was sullying Cas in this way. He spread his thighs and rolled down, dirty, his hips digging against the bulge he felt building in Cas’ jeans.

“Hey,” Cas said, touching Dean’s cheek. “Keep kissing me.”

Dean startled, snapping briefly back into focus. He snagged on the sight of Cas’ pink mouth, his mussed-up hair. When did Dean do that? Except it didn’t really matter; Dean leaned down to kiss him once again.

Cas’ hands ran along the planes from Dean’s hips to Dean’s shoulders, rubbing up and down his back until finally settling on his ass. He gripped two meaty handfuls and plunged Dean’s hips downward, harder, his own pelvis rising to rock in tandem with Dean’s.

Dean began panting through the kisses Cas was giving him, a sudden need rising within him to surge upward, to pin Cas down by his shoulders as Dean took, and took, and took.

“Want you,” Dean panted, back arching even as Cas’ hands drove him down. “Want you inside me.” He pawed clumsily at his sweats, trying to pull them off without dislodging himself from his seat atop Cas’ dick.

He could smell himself in the room, the musk of his body’s needs rising in complement to Cas’ own delectable taste. He had never wanted an alpha’s knot until now, now that he had found his perfect mate.

“Dean,” Cas said, touching at Dean’s hips. His own body stilled as he coaxed Dean to pause as well, gentle but firm in his resistance to Dean’s thrusts.

Dean whined, some blend of his omega and his own instinctive shame telling him that this was it, this was Cas rejecting him; no matter what Dean put for preferences on his profile, there was nothing he could say that would ever make Cas want him in the same way.

“Dean,” Cas said again, this time steering both their bodies to the side. Dean flumped down into the pillows with a needful whine, rejection ramping up through him with the cold distance between their bodies. Then Cas was crowding over him, rolling Dean back to face him when he tried to shy away, burying his face into the bedsheets. He kissed Dean’s mouth, his cheek, his temple. His deep voice rumbled straight into Dean’s ear. “I’ll be right back. Just let me get a condom.”

“Don’t,” Dean sobbed, even as Cas shushed and soothed him, kissing deeply as he drew slowly, so slowly, away.

When their last contact broke, Dean rolled facedown into the pillows. He could smell Cas better there, co-mingled with the fresh lavender scent of the sheets. And it was good. It reminded him that Cas was here. Cas was here for him. Would take care of him. It would all turn out okay.

“Sorry,” Cas said in a rush, from somewhere behind Dean in the bedroom, “I couldn’t find them at first, my stupid bag keeps ripping at the—”

There was a pause, and something throaty happened to Cas as he said, “Dean?”

Dean hummed, untucking his face from Cas’ pillow. He dug his knees harder into the mattress, bowing his back as he pressed his upper body down. All the better to present himself for his alpha.

When another moment passed and Cas still wasn’t touching him, Dean moaned and drove his shoulders down lower, his ass slick and wet and _available_ as he shifted in place. His shirt pooled around his armpits, exposing the long line of his back. “C’mon, Cas. _Please_.”

His thighs were the perfect distance apart, he _knew _it. He would be perfect for Cas. He could be perfect for Cas.

Eventually, after an eternity, a tentative touch came to one side of Dean’s hips, then the other, and Dean all but sobbed with relief. His alpha did want him after all.

“Please,” he begged, pushing back, even as Cas irritatingly held him in place. “Like this. Need you like this. Please.”

The grip on Dean’s hips tightened, and before Dean could make much sense of it, Cas pressed a kiss into his lower back, lavishing the exposed skin with slow, desperate affection. He kept kissing up along Dean’s spine even as he pushed Dean’s underwear down, his sweats and heatbriefs briefly collecting in the crook of his knees. Cas steadied him through removing them, helping tug at the clothes until Dean was finally freed.

“Please,” Dean panted again, but Cas’ pace remained frustratingly slow. He dragged his fingers through the mess Dean has made of himself, the touch reigniting the fire Dean felt inside.

Cas rubbed along the crack of Dean’s ass, his thumb tantalizingly teasing Dean’s hole. Then the first few fingers slipped inside of him, and Dean bucked against the intrusion, rushing headlong into _more, deeper, faster_, trying desperately to show that he was ready. That there was no need for them to wait any longer.

It was enough. Before Dean could properly adjust to the thought, there came a hot, blunt weight against his hole, and then Cas was pushing his cock into Dean, his breaths stuttering as his chest came to rest along Dean’s back.

There was a long, lingering moment when all Dean felt was sated and full, warmed from within by a body beyond his own. “Fuck _yes_,” he groaned, his toes curling as he purred out happily. He rolled the mound of his shoulder up into where he could feel Cas’ mouth resting wetly against his skin.

There came a pinch of teeth, just the briefest nip, before Cas was moving again, hips building a rhythm that pitched Dean’s moans an octave out of line.

Dean’s body followed suit even as his higher functions shorted out; he rolled his hips, meeting the thrusts that Cas was building against his body. Dean could smell the rising musk of Cas’ sweat, could feel the pressure of a knot mounting inside of him. The room was wet with the sound of their bodies meeting, the rough breaths they were both sucking in as they frantically increased their pace.

Dean never considered himself the type to want such a traditional position—omega facedown in the pillows. But Cas didn’t make him feel used by it; if anything, Cas spent the sparse moments between breaths peppering Dean’s back with kisses, chasing patterns Dean couldn’t comprehend beyond a suspicion they related to his freckles.

And then Cas was flipping the script; he hooked his arms beneath Dean’s arms and hefted upward, pulling Dean back until he was seated upright on Cas’ cock.

The change in position was incredible, Cas’ cock reaching a place that set the stars within Dean alight. Dean instinctively drove his ass down, hissing at the stretch accompanying Cas’ knot. Cas supported his weight entirely, encouraging Dean to lean bodily against him. His strength was enough to maintain their pace for the both of them, the angle leaving Dean not much leverage beyond what Cas wanted him to give.

And it was good. _It was so good_. Dean spread his legs and arched his back. Let his head loll back onto Cas’ shoulder. Let one arm come up to keep Cas exactly where he was kissing along Dean’s throat, teeth dragging along tendons, tongue soothing in their wake.

With one arm across Dean’s chest, pinning them together, Cas dropped his other hand down to Dean’s cock, thumb swiping the leaking head and sending Dean to shudder. Dean’s blood surged at the touch, and what little leverage he had now was being used to chase the tunnel Cas made of his fist.

He could feel Cas’ knot growing larger, his hole catching it on each thrust. “Fuck yeah,” Dean hissed, slamming his hips down, and the girth of Cas’ cock was so good and he was suddenly seizing tight, his cock spilling out into Cas’ fist as the first spasms of his orgasm rocked his body.

A few grinding thrusts later and Cas quickly followed, his knot catching as he began to come. Fresh slick rushed out from Dean in response, and Cas hissed something filthy in answer, mouth pressed tight against the scent glands in Dean’s neck.

Heat flooded throughout Dean where their bodies were connected, a steady weight building inside of him as Cas made shallow thrusts through the repeated spurting of his dick. Dean closed his eyes and briefly reveled in the feel of Cas around him, inside of him. It felt so good, falling pliant into Cas’ arms, relying on Cas to catch him as he came down from his high.

_It could be like this, always_, Dean thought distantly, as his mind drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When Dean reopened his eyes, he lay on his side among his nest of pillows. An arm draped heavily across his waist.

He groaned, stretching a cramp out in his leg. The motion jostled a very obvious weight inside of him, and in an instant Dean felt where another body had been tied into his own.

Old instinct had Dean freezing, the muscles in his back stiffening like a shield against whatever—whoever—was behind him. There was a knot pinning him to a person and he couldn’t run, couldn’t get away—

And then he remembered.

And then he _remembered_.

Fuck. First time at the rodeo and here Dean was, fucking _presenteng_ for the guy who was pity-fucking him?

Christ almighty. His chest burned with a fresh dosage of shame.

Dean shuffled forward along the blankets, making space between him and Cas as best he could. He felt the loss of warmth immediately along his back, lost with the sticky tang of sweaty skin drawing apart. But Cas groaned and clumsily followed after him, cheek returning to the damp spot of drool he had made on Dean’s shoulder.

It reassured Dean, though not by much; alphas were as instinctual post-mating as omegas were, while ramping into heat sex. Cas could be cuddling him with no say beyond his body’s reflexes telling him it was what he actually wanted.

Cas groaned again, stirring Dean with the feel of lax fingers carding through his hair. He set his mouth against Dean’s skin, and murmured, “You’re thinking again.”

_And you’re not?_ Dean scoffed. “Maybe.”

“Mm.” Cas stretched out his legs much the same as Dean had, this time his knot jostling Dean in place. His arms briefly tightened around Dean, squeezing gently as he released tension from his back.

In the post-haze of incredible sex, Dean was too ratcheted up to bear the quiet. “What’re you thinking about?”

There was a pause. Then Cas said, “I don’t think I stopped the movie.”

Unexpectedly, Dean burst out laughing. “_Really_?” He turned back as much as he could, in their present state. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

Cas’ sigh transformed into a yawn. He propped himself up on his elbow; Dean caught him looking from the corner of his eye. “Well, actually, I’m thinking how we should stay in the living room for the next round. Since you seem so keen on me watching these movies.”

“You think I’m letting you fuck me while Indy is on-screen?” Dean tetched, supplying more bravado than he actually felt. “Didn’t take you for the sharing type.”

“I mean after. After.” Cas kissed his shoulder again, even though he didn’t have to. “When we could be curled up on the couch. Like this.”

Dean hummed like he was only partly considering it, even though everything within him would really like that. “Next time,” he said, wondering if Cas meant it.

“Next time,” Cas agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> for the [tumblr](https://vaudelin.tumblr.com/post/185476992573/for-the-smut-prompts-63-and-39) prompts: _“I really want to kiss you right now.”_ and _“You taste like fucking candy.”_


End file.
